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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25738012">Somebody Come Get Him (He's Dancin' Like a Stripper)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites'>whenshewrites</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Stripper Stiles Stilinski, Alpha Laura Hale, Beta Derek Hale, Deputy Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale is a Mess, Erica Reyes Ships It, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Possessive Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski is a Mess, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease, Stripper Meet-Cute, The Author Regrets Everything</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:09:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,114</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25738012</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I told Laura I didn’t want a stripper.”</p><p>Stiles blinked, his brain taking its time to catch up. And then he realized Derek was speaking to him. Because this was a thing. This was actually happening.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Yeah, that’s what left his mouth.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>199</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1031</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The thing is, Stiles wasn't a stripper. </p><p>Also, that was a sentence, he never thought he’d have to say out loud.</p><p>It all started when Scott moved into a new apartment building. Stiles was supposed to help him go move in, but then his dad said they needed an extra hand at the station, so Stiles had promised to come by later. And Scott, wanting to ‘christen the apartment with Allison’ (gross) seemed more than happy to let Stiles take his time.</p><p>Which was why Stiles gave it a few days. </p><p>He didn’t know how long ‘christenings’ lasted, but he’d walked in on his best friend and girlfriend doing… certain things before, and Stiles never wanted to do that again. So he took his time. Eventually texted Scott, got an apartment number, and went over after his last shift at the station.</p><p>He never knew his deputy uniform posed such a danger to his well being.</p><p>The moment Stiles knocked on the apartment door, he knew there was something wrong. Because the music playing was far too loud for Scotty-boy, who tended to be such a bit of a baby with his werewolf hearing. Not to mention Stiles didn’t know why the hell his best friend would be throwing a party without him; or who the hell he would be throwing it with.</p><p>Because it was definitely a party. That much Stiles was sure about, especially as the door swung open and the blonde-haired girl in front of him grinned all teeth.</p><p>“Derek, your sister bought you a stripper!”</p><p>Stiles’s brain stopped working for at least ten seconds.</p><p>Which seemed to be plenty enough time for the girl to grab his arm and drag him into the apartment. Stiles wasn’t sure how one thing had led to another or how the hell he <em> possibly </em> was mistaken for a stripper, but then there fingers on his uniform, someone was undoing the first few buttons, and Stiles faintly realized <em> ‘oh.’ </em></p><p>Oh. That was his first realization. Stiles hated his brain sometimes.</p><p>And he tried to drag out his badge, he really did. But then there was a man in front of him, glaring like Stiles had just kicked a puppy or something, and his next thought was <em> ‘hot damn.’ </em></p><p>Stiles really needed to have a sit down with his brain.</p><p>But the guy in front of him was drop-dead gorgeous. Like, unfairly drop-dead gorgeous. Stiles didn’t often look at a guy and realize that, yeah, he’d probably put on a show if they asked, but uh. This guy was a literal greek god. And then were still hands on his shoulders and his back, dragging off his uniform. In a matter of moments, he was in his undershirt and Stiles was still staring like an idiot.</p><p>“I told Laura I didn’t want a stripper.”</p><p>Stiles blinked, his brain still taking its time to catch up. And then he realized the guy— Derek, the blonde-haired girl had said— was speaking to <em> him </em>.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Yeah, that’s what left his mouth.</p><p>Derek scowled even further and Stiles remembered he was an officer of the law. He was a deputy of Beacon Hills, not an actually trained stripper, and this wasn’t going to end well for anyone.</p><p>“Wait, wait, wait,” he said, raising his hands. Derek raised an eyebrow and once more, Stiles felt his throat turn dry. “There’s been a misunderstanding.”</p><p>“Clearly. I told Laura no strippers.”</p><p>Stiles blinked a few times. The blonde-haired girl at Derek’s side pouted, eyes raking up and down Stiles appreciatively.</p><p>“Come on, Derek. This one’s cute.”</p><p>
  <em> Cute? </em>
</p><p>“I don’t want him, Erica.”</p><p>And suddenly, Stiles felt a little insulted. Because damn straight, he was cute. And Derek was looking at him like Stiles had horns or something. To hell with being an officer of the law; Stiles could be a hella good stripper if he wanted to be. </p><p>So instead of actually making any good decisions, Stiles smirked. “Well, I’ve already been paid, so I could go—”</p><p>“Derek, Laura already <em> paid.” </em></p><p>Derek scowled even deeper. Stiles raised an eyebrow and before he could stop himself, kicked off his shoes. He definitely had no idea what he was doing, but the hot asshole in front of him was kind of annoying and what if Laura had hired a stripper? The poor guy would have been so hurt.</p><p>“Do you want me to dance?” Stiles asked, tilting his head. “Or should I just leave?”</p><p>Erica’s grin widened. Stiles could already tell she was not someone to be crossed; and hopefully he wasn’t about to get busted or something. Would he have to arrest himself if someone called him out? Stiles didn’t really know how things like that worked. Though his dad would definitely never let him live it down.</p><p>Derek looked at him for a long moment. Then the man offered back his own smirk. One that was unfair and terrifyingly hot.</p><p>“Alright, <em> deputy.” </em></p><p>Stiles nearly had a heart attack. Then he remembered the uniform.</p><p>Part of which was already missing.</p><p>Stiles was coming to realize a few things. One, Scott had given him the wrong room number. Two, he was walking a fine line between idiotic and exciting. And three, the guy in front of him was unfairly hot and clearly a bit of an arrogant ass.</p><p>Stiles had never been good at making the smart moves.</p><p>The next few decisions were a bit of a blur. Stiles ended up without shoes, a t-shirt, and by the time there were catcalls echoing through the air, Derek was sitting on the couch with an eyebrow raised and Stiles was inches away from being in his lap. </p><p>Some part of his brain realized that yeah, Scott could never know why Stiles had failed to show up on time. Another part didn’t even care.</p><p>Derek might be an ass, but Stiles could lose himself in those eyes. Sweat collected on Stiles’s forehead and he almost forgot the rest of the room existed. He was pretty sure he was only in his Batman boxers underneath his uniform pants, so if any more articles of clothing were removed, this might end up getting awkward.</p><p>Did strippers often wear Batman boxers?</p><p>But Derek was watching him with a hungry expression and Stiles couldn’t ignore the heat that coiled in his groin, gradually creeping lower as he rolled his hips over Derek’s lap. He got as close as he dared, almost pleased in the way Derek’s pupils dilated and the man shuddered beneath him.</p><p>“Your pants,” Derek said, voice a little horse. Stiles raised an eyebrow.</p><p>“Yeah, those are a thing, big guy.”</p><p>“Off.”</p><p>“Oh, come on, what’s a little teasing first?”</p><p>Derek shuddered again and Stiles couldn’t help smirking as he rotated his hips, inches away from literally grinding against the man. Derek’s fingers twitched as if he was attempting not to touch and Stiles felt his breaths stall in his throat.</p><p>“You can.”</p><p>Grey-green eyes snapped upward. There was no more smug asshole look as Derek looked at him with wide eyes, throat bobbing as he swallowed. “What?”</p><p>“You can touch,” Stiles said. “Or not. If you don’t want to.”</p><p>He could’ve sworn Derek made a growling noise at the back of his throat. Calloused fingers moved to ghost down his sides, making Stiles shiver. They played over his skin before moving back up his ribcage. Traced from mole to mole. Then Derek’s hands moved down to rest on his thighs, gripping almost too tight, and Stiles swallowed hard. </p><p>This was such a dumb idea. Stiles should never be allowed to make decisions ever again. He was an idiot, swaying a little as panic threatened to crash over him.</p><p>But then Derek’s hands were on his hips, balancing him out, and Stiles’s heart skipped a beat again. </p><p>Even more so when he realized the man was getting hard beneath him. Stiles’s brain logged offline for a second and he bit back a whimper, one hand sliding down Derek’s shirt. Tracing over the man’s buttons, tugging on the hem. This wasn’t how his night was supposed to go, but he couldn’t find the words to complain.</p><p>Stiles was supposed to be kicking back with Scott right now, maybe having a few beers. He was supposed to be in a whole different apartment room, definitely not half naked in a stranger’s lap. But instead, he was putting on an active strip show for the most gorgeous man Stiles has ever laid eyes on. And said man was getting <em> hard. </em></p><p>“Fuck,” Stiles said, the word slipping out. <em> “Fuck.” </em></p><p>Derek closed his eyes with an inhale and a shudder. Stiles ground down a little too low, brushing against the top of his thighs, and the man definitely growled this time.</p><p>When Derek’s eyes snapped open again, they were bright blue.</p><p>Stiles froze. For a second, that was all he could do, staring at eyes the color of electricity. Until he was hit by a sudden realization of <em> not human, </em>that is, and he shoved himself up, stumbling back. The nerves underneath his skin were gone. The excitement of this all was thrown out the window. And Stiles felt like he’d just been dunked in cold water.</p><p>
  <em> Not human. </em>
</p><p>Derek blinked a few times, the blue fading from his eyes. But Stiles knew what he had seen. The room had gone terrifyingly silent and Stiles realized in terror the man in front of him probably wasn’t the only one with glowy eyes. And either he was going to die here, he was going to have to lie his ass off to a bunch of <em> werewolves, </em>or… well, that’s all he had.</p><p>He was such an idiot.</p><p>Derek didn’t move for another long moment, still looking dazed. The man’s fingers were curled into the arms of the couch and Stiles could’ve sworn he saw hints of claw. And, as Derek breathed unsteadily, he figured that was as good of a chance as any to run.</p><p>Stumbling back, Stiles all but fled the apartment.</p><p>No one knew his name. No one knew who the hell he was. Someone definitely called out at his back but Stiles ignored them, hightailing it down the hallway in nothing but his uniform pants. He could get away; maybe leave the country. And <em> holy hell, </em>that was such a bad idea.</p><p>Stiles dragged his phone out of his back pocket in a daze, faintly realizing he was missing his badge… and his gun. His dad was going to kill him. Oh, no, nevermind. His dad could never find out. </p><p>Stiles had Scott on the phone in a matter of seconds, throwing a glance over his shoulder. The hallway was still empty, though. Thankfully, nobody had followed him yet. </p><p>Scott answered after a few rings with a confused <em> “Stiles?” </em>and he ducked around the corner, heart thudding against his chest.</p><p>“Scotty, what the hell is your apartment number?”</p><p>“What? Three-ten.”</p><p>“You texted two-ten earlier, dude!”</p><p>“Oh,” Scott said, going quiet for a moment. Then, “I’m sorry?”</p><p>“You better be there to let me inside, dude.”</p><p>Stiles hung up to Scott’s questions and nearly ran over an old lady coming out of the elevator. She gave him the most disturbed look and Stiles was minorly offended until he remembered he was both shirtless and barefoot. And when the doors closed to the words <em> ‘youths these days’ </em>Stiles supposed that was fair.</p><p>Scott looked more than a little surprised when he opened his apartment door. </p><p>“Uh, Stiles?”</p><p>“Yes,” Stiles said, stumbling into the room. “I know how this looks. No, I’m not telling you how it happened. And, oh, by the way, there’s an entire apartment of werewolves living on the floor below you.”</p><p>Scott’s eyes went round. Stiles offered his best grin.</p><p>“Could I borrow a t-shirt?”</p><p>-</p><p>Derek hated everything sometimes.</p><p>“You had a good thing there,” Erica said, shaking her head. “And then you went all growly.”</p><p>“Shut up,” Derek said, face still buried in his hands. The party had ended a couple of hours ago and everyone had left except for Erica and the other betas, but Derek just wanted to be left alone. Maybe for tonight, maybe for the rest of his life. He hadn’t decided yet.</p><p>Because Erica was right, dammit. He<em> had </em>a good thing. Literally inches away from being in his lap. And then he’d messed up.</p><p>The kid— the stripper— had run so fast, Derek didn’t even have a chance to realize what had just happened. But then Boyd was looking at him with a concerned expression and Derek nearly had a heart attack as he realized what he’d gone wrong.</p><p>He didn’t think he’d ever lost a boner so fast.</p><p>“He probably doesn’t even know what happened,” Erica said, tracing gentle fingers over the back of his neck as she moved around to clean the room up. “And even if he does, no one is going to believe magic changing eyes.”</p><p>“Oh great,” Derek said. “So I made him think he’s crazy.”</p><p>Isaac snorted from across the room. Derek shot him an irritated blue-eyed look.</p><p>“It’s fine,” Boyd said. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”</p><p>“Oh, definitely,” Erica said, grinning vicious and sharp. “He <em> was </em>fine.”</p><p>“Erica—”</p><p>“Look,” she said, cutting him off. “If you really want to make sure he’s not freaking out or thinking he’s going crazy or something, just call your sister! She hired him after all. And the kid left his fake badge and gun anyway, so you can claim to be returning them.”</p><p>Derek clenched his jaw. As much as he hated to admit it, that wasn’t a terrible idea.</p><p>Erica seemed to realize her upper hand because she cackled again. Derek just frowned and leaned back into the couch, folding his arms over his chest. He hadn’t asked for this— he’d never once asked for a stipper birthday present. Derek was turning twenty-eight dammit, he wasn’t some college kid anymore. And Laura should have known that.</p><p>He didn’t move until the betas started to file out of the apartment. Erica pressed a quick kiss against his forehead and grinned, tapping him on the nose.</p><p>“Don’t beat yourself up about it, Der. He was a cutie.”</p><p>“Go away.”</p><p>“Aw, you love us. Happy birthday!</p><p>Derek just glowered at the floor. Only when his door was firmly shut and he couldn’t hear the betas heartbeats anymore did Derek pull his phone out of his pocket. He pulled the kid’s badge from where it had been tucked at his side too; the thing looked real enough. Clearly, wherever he’d come from didn’t skimp on the outfits.</p><p>Even the gun smelled like oil and cordite. Derek had left that in the furthest corner of the apartment, though he hadn’t been able to keep himself from turning the badge over and over again in his hands and focusing on the scent of <em> warmth, cinnamon, electricity. </em>And something else Derek couldn’t put his finger on. Something... right.</p><p>He’d noticed it seconds before he’d lost control. When the kid had been so close, he was all Derek could smell, and then suddenly all he could think was <em> ‘mine’ </em>before his eyes turned bright blue.</p><p>The kid had looked terrified. Derek hated himself a little bit for that.</p><p>Laura answered fairly fast.</p><p>“Hey, little bro. Did you have a nice birthday?”</p><p>“No, thanks to you.”</p><p>The silence reigned for a moment. Derek glared at the badge in his hands and then swallowed hard.</p><p>“Okay, it wasn’t terrible. But I didn’t want a <em> stripper, </em>Laura.”</p><p>“Oh my god, someone got you a stripper?”</p><p>“Shut up. Don’t even pretend.”</p><p>“Don’t pretend... Wait, Der. I’m confused.”</p><p>“I’m talking about the kid you sent,” Derek said, throat tightening. <em> The one that smells like mine. </em>“The cop stripper. I’m literally holding his badge right now. I lost control, he saw my eyes, and now I don’t know what the hell to do.”</p><p>Once more, the other side of the phone was silent. And then when Laura’s words came through again, Derek nearly had a heart attack right there. Because no— that wasn’t right. That wasn’t right.</p><p>“Derek, I didn’t send a stripper.”</p><p>
  <em> Oh shit. </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The thing is, Stiles knew he’d made a mistake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He refused to go over to Scott’s apartment for the rest of the week and was pretty sure if he just never went back, no one could blame him. Because werewolves, man. With Stiles’s luck, he’d get caught the moment he stepped foot into that damn building. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Derek would probably rip his throat out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t help that Stiles hadn’t been able to go an hour without thinking about him. His dad threatened to give him the boot when Stiles claimed to have ‘mysteriously lost’ his gun and badge, but Stiles sure as hell wasn’t showing up at Derek’s apartment and asking for them back. It wasn’t like he had a death wish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He might as well have had a death wish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because no matter how hard he tried, Stiles couldn’t get Derek out of his head. Not the man’s eyes, not the way he’d shuddered beneath Stiles like an unfairly hot sex god. He could still feel the man’s phantom touches on his skin and Stiles wasn’t okay, dammit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it wasn’t like he could ever show his face at his apartment again. Because one, werewolves. And two… well, none of them were idiots. Surely, they would have figured things out by now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles was literally living his life in fear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scott was still complaining about Stiles refusing to come back and </span>
  <em>
    <span>“how do you even know they’re werewolves?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> but Stiles refused to elaborate further. There were some things he’d tell his best friend and some things he’d take to his grave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles was taking that accidental stripper occasion to his grave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except then he didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He so totally blamed his dad. Stiles was minding his own business, trying to pretend he wasn’t on probation for ‘losing’ his badge and gun, and wrinkling his nose at the station’s coffee when he heard the painfully familiar voice. Stiles all but went stock-still, staring at the opposite wall, and then he felt his heart plunge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You found these?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you mind telling me where, Mr. Hale? Because my son refuses to admit to where he might have lost </span>
  <em>
    <span>both </span>
  </em>
  <span>his badge and gun and I know better than to attempt getting anything from him when he’s being stubborn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence reigned for a moment and Stiles swallowed hard. Then, “We had an incident with an unexpected visitor making false claims at my apartment, sir. Stiles was there to offer his… services.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was it possible to melt into the floor? Because Stiles felt like he could melt into the floor. But then he heard the sound of approaching footsteps and realized his death was still probably imminent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There wasn’t anywhere for him to go. Nothing other than a small window above the counter, that was, and Stiles debated it for a second. Derek hadn’t said anything though, had he? Not yet at least. Maybe this was all just a big misunderstanding. Somehow a big misunderstanding. Oh, hell no, it wasn’t. But how the hell had Derek tracked him down here?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay… his badge. Maybe. Probably. Whatever. Stiles wasn’t an idiot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made for the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, Stiles had a lot of good plans and a lot of bad plans in the past. A good one? Sneaking into Lydia Martin’s birthday party when he was seventeen years old. Stiles had gotten a kiss, gotten drunk, become the life of the party, and then woken up the next morning realizing it was all a dream. But still— dream him was full of good ideas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some of his worst ones? Playing stripper at a hot werewolf’s birthday party. And, uh, attempting to sneak out the window at his own place of work. Because Stiles wasn’t a fugitive, dammit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And his hips were too perfect for this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles heard the door open when he was half-way out. He abruptly stopped wiggling, face turning hot, and then he tried to back up. Only, that wasn’t working either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some part of him was stuck. And suddenly, the window was too small.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles debated playing dead for a moment. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He </span>
  </em>
  <span>wasn’t a werewolf, but could that still work?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then his dad sighed, long and painful, and Stiles heard the sound of him approaching. He went limp, frowning at the dirty alleyway wall across from him, and wondered if he’d ever be able to live this down. By offering up lots of steaks, probably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, pops! Uh… I’m going to assume you’re looking very confused right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not nearly as confused as I should be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s fair. Do we have a visitor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stiles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles’s face totally didn’t turn hot at the very sound of Derek’s voice— it </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t— </span>
  </em>
  <span>but he frowned harder as he realized it probably had. And he was pretty sure his heart had skipped a beat or two. Whatever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Also… his name coming from Derek’s mouth. Life-changing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, hello, Derek. Sir! Stranger. Who I have never met before in my life until now. Can I help you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stiles,” his dad said, sighing. “Mr. Hale here brought your badge and gun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I have a badge and a gun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have a borrowed badge and gun. He brought the ones you </span>
  <em>
    <span>lost.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“That happened when?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Stiles.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay,” Stiles said, attempting to pull himself back inside again. He finally managed it and stumbled back, straight off the counter, and probably would have brained himself on the floor, except then someone was catching him. Stiles blinked up into grey-green eyes, dazed, and then he yanked away, stumbling backward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek looked unfairly amused. But did that mean Stiles wasn’t getting his throat ripped out?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Standing to the side, his dad crossed his arms and gave him a pointed look. “Mr. Hale here went out of his way to drop your things off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Stiles said, eyeing the werewolf. “I’m sure he did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was very polite of him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s one word for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Stiles.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles wrinkled his nose but then put on his best smile, stepping forward and offering out a hand. The closer he got, the bluer Derek’s eyes turned, and Stiles tried not to concentrate on how dry that made his throat turn. “Fine. Thank you for your service, Mr. Hale, I’ll make sure to never leave my clothes— I mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>things— </span>
  </em>
  <span>at your apartment ever again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek’s face had turned bright red, but he still shook Stiles’s hand. Stiles grinned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great! Now, I’d hate to disrupt your day—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually,” his dad cut in and Stiles could’ve groaned. “Stiles, I’d like you to take Mr. Hale here out for a coffee. As a thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles gave his dad a wide-eyed look. “What? Why me?”</span>
</p><p><span>“Because it was your badge and gun</span> <span>that you left in a public place. A public place, Stiles. A loaded </span><em><span>gun.</span></em><span>”</span></p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but it was in an apartment full of were—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles cut off abruptly and Derek’s eyes glowed bright blue. Thankfully, his dad’s gaze was fixed firmly on Stiles and he snapped his jaw back shut, forcing himself to nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Coffee, right. Seems fair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, it was Derek’s turn to look nervous. “Actually, sir—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stiles, it can come out of your paycheck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dad.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or I can charge you for your badge and gun. Your choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles glared at his father for a long moment. He was looking smugly amused and none of this was fair. Stiles was never pretending to be a stripper again. It— Derek— was not worth it. Totally not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles blinked away the images of Derek shuddering beneath him and felt his face grow hot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, coffee?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nearly melted into the floor as his dad turned away. Stiles rounded on Derek, then, shoving a finger into his chest. Which only made the man growl and reminded him painfully of </span>
  <em>
    <span>werewolf. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell are you doing here, asshole?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What am I doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Stiles,” Derek said, eyes narrowed. “Let’s just clear up this misunderstanding with the Sheriff. Your </span>
  <em>
    <span>father. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Does he know his son plays stripper on his off hours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, that’s uncalled for, asshole!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stiles?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles straightened as Parrish glanced in, his eyes going from him to Derek, and then back. The man looked a little suspicious, Derek looked a lot pissed off, and Stiles’s heart thudded even harder against his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is everything alright in here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, everything’s just peachy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Parrish didn’t look very convinced, raising an eyebrow at Derek, who growled. Stiles drove an elbow into the man’s side and he abruptly went quiet. Parrish glanced between them one more time before nodding carefully and moving on, and Derek growled again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, excuse me, dude? Keep the flashy eyes on a down-low!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god,” Stiles said, giving him an incredulous look. “No, we are not doing this. He’s a deputy, Smartiewolf. I’m a deputy. We literally work together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek turned a blue-eyed look toward him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Smartiewolf?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Relax, I don’t plan on telling anyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek studied him for a long moment. Stiles wondered if the man was listening to his heartbeats or if he just found Stiles’s face incredibly interesting or something. But then the man smirked and there was nothing but a threat to the expression. “Okay, </span>
  <em>
    <span>deputy.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we still going for coffee?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Derek said. And his disbelieving grin was nothing but feral.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek couldn’t kill Stiles. He couldn’t kill Stiles, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He also couldn’t take his eyes off of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was pretty sure the first time he’d laid eyes on him; all pale skin, bright eyes, with a smirk playing along the edges of his lips, he’d been fine. But Derek found himself tracking every single mole across Stiles’s face now. Remembering how far they littered underneath his uniform, like little lines Derek would love to connect, and—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, bad thoughts. Derek was pissed at the little shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except Stiles was still in his uniform, that was bringing back some unfair memories, and Derek was pretty sure Stiles knew exactly what he was doing from the little smirk tugging at his lips. He swallowed threats of ripping out the idiot's throat, pretty sure he’d much rather do something much different than that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Goddammit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you know about werewolves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah, that’s what left his mouth. Stiles raised a brow, looking amused, and the barista finally called their orders. Derek sat in uncomfortable silence until Stiles came back, sliding a black coffee across the table. “For a little while now, Sourpuss. Consider yourself lucky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucky?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah, dude. You would’ve scared the shit out of some poor unknowing soul.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It seemed like I’d scared the shit out of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles’s scent turned a little sharper and he glowered from across the table. “For your information, I had just learned the stranger I was literally </span>
  <em>
    <span>grinding down on </span>
  </em>
  <span>had flashy blue eyes and fangs. Was I supposed to react any different?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never put you in that position.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you kind of did—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek growled and Stiles’s mouth snapped shut. The boy’s scent flared again, but this time it wasn’t with nerves. In fact, he almost seemed… excited. Derek swallowed with a suddenly dry throat and attempted to concentrate on his coffee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laura was so never going to let him live this down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles’s eyes snapped back up and the boy looked surprised. Derek traced a finger along the outside of his coffee cup, swallowing nervously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you do it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Heat of the moment decision?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek raised a brow and very audibly heard Stiles’s heart skip a beat. He could get lost in the boy’s scent, he thought. The smell of cinnamon, and electricity, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>his. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Derek’s. He didn’t know what the hell that was supposed to mean, but Stiles was </span>
  <em>
    <span>his.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek blinked a few times, unsettled now for a whole number of different reasons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t usually put on a show,” Stiles mumbled, his face bright red. “If that’s what you mean. In fact, I don't. I haven’t. That, uh… hasn’t happened before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know whether to be relieved or impressed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles’s amber eyes widened, searching his face, and Derek felt a warm flush creep up his neck. He took a long drink of his coffee as if that would somehow clear his head, but right now, he felt like he could go for an entirely different drink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Stiles said softly. “So you weren’t pissed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was surprised.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But totally not pissed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little pissed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles winced, dropping his gaze. But maybe the coffee had done something to Derek’s head because suddenly, he was feeling bold. And he’d gone to the station to chew Stiles out, maybe get him fired, not be doing something he’d probably regret, but—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never did finish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles straightened and Derek froze. That’s not what he’d meant to come out of his mouth. That wasn’t even close to the things he’d been thinking. Except, maybe it was exactly on point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles looked at him with round eyes. “What dude?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing.”</span>
</p><p><span>“You do realize I’m not</span> <span>a stripper, right?”</span></p><p>
  <span>Derek hated everything. He shouldn’t have come here in the first place; what had he even expected to happen? Other than a bit of second hand embarrassment for both of them. Because maybe Stiles hadn’t been a stripper, but Derek would have paid for a whole second show.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles was searching his face and Derek just wanted to leave. He dug a card out of his pocket, slapping it down on the table, and shoved himself up. He stood there for a moment, watching Stiles reach for it, and then startled amber eyes snapped back upward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Derek?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My sister owns a bar,” Derek said, words catching in his throat. “I work there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The same sister you thought hired me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face had to be bright red now. Derek growled and started to turn away but then Stiles was on his feet, catching his arm before he could flee the shop. Slowly, he turned back around. Stiles looked… well, he looked confused. But maybe a little intrigued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His touch on Derek’s arm sent shivers down his spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want me to come by?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiles’s eyes flashed for a moment. With challenge; just like they had on that night. Before he was kicking off his shoes and giving Derek a look that would haunt him for the rest of his days. “You don’t care.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Stiles said, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Then I guess we’ll see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Derek’s fangs itched in his gums and he just wanted to catch Stiles’s lips, run a hand through his hair, mark down the idiot’s neck, and show him exactly how much he cared. But instead, he nodded jerkily and turned, stalking out of the coffee shop. He could feel Stiles’s gaze burning into his back the entire way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was pretty sure the boy was still smirking.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Little shit.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, I'm considering turning this into a small universe (once I've knocked some other wips out of the way) and I'd love to hear what you all think! Would you like to see some more progress? And eventual get together or some smut? I want to keep options open but I'd love to hear your thoughts!</p><p>I adore you all, like always &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles couldn't believe he was doing this, but he was doing this. And he did his best not to let himself turn-tail and leave as he entered the bar from the card that Derek had given him. Because this totally wasn't a bad idea, was it?</p><p>Was it?</p><p>“I’m looking for Derek Hale.”</p><p>The words still spilled out before he could stop them. And the woman across the counter that he had approached raised an eyebrow, searching him up and down. Then a small smile tugged at the edges of her lips and she leaned forward. “And who might you be?”</p><p>“A friend.”</p><p>“I know all of Der-Bear’s friends, sweetie. And you’re a new one.”</p><p><em> Der-Bear? </em>Stiles felt his heart skip a beat and he eyed the woman before sliding onto one of the stools in front of her. “You wouldn’t happen to be his sister by chance, would you?”</p><p>“Depends on who’s asking.”</p><p>“Laura Hale? The one who owns the bar?”</p><p>Her eyes sparked and Stiles could’ve sworn he caught a flash of red. She rested her elbows on the counter, regarding him, and then a smirk curled along the edges of her lips. “You know a lot for a supposed ‘friend of Derek’.”</p><p>“I’m a curious person.”</p><p>“Or,” she said. “If I can make my own guess. You’re the stripper, right?”</p><p>Stiles felt his face turn hot and that must have been an answer on its own because Laura threw her head back with a laugh. Stiles was pretty sure his face turned even redder. The woman shook her head, looking at him with bright eyes, and then grabbed a glass, filling it a few fingers high with something light brown.</p><p>“You’ve thrown my little brother through quite a loop, kid.”</p><p>“Stiles.”</p><p>“Stiles,” she said. “Is that the stripper name?”</p><p>“I’m not actually a stripper,” Stiles said, ducking his head. Laura pushed the glass across the counter and he eyed it for a moment before pulling it toward himself. “I’m a deputy down at the station. That night at your brother’s apartment was, uh, an accident.”</p><p>“But you being here now isn’t. Is it?”</p><p>“He gave me a card.”</p><p>Laura looked at him blankly for a few seconds. Then she laughed again, shaking her head. “I forgot Derek had cards made. He cares about this place way too much.”</p><p>“He told me you’re the owner?”</p><p>“I inherited the building from our parents,” Laura said, filling a second glass and lifting it to her lips. Normally, Stiles would question that, but he wasn’t here on duty and you know… werewolf. “I just attempt to make sure the place doesn’t burn itself to the ground.”</p><p>“He works here too, right?”</p><p>Laura lowered the glass with a grin and Stiles felt himself turn red again.</p><p>“I’m just wondering.”</p><p>“Did you come here for my little brother, Stiles?”</p><p>Stiles debated his answer to that. Because he had, hadn't he? He’d tried not to; he really had. But then his dad had been asking about the ‘gentleman’ who’d come by the station earlier, Scott had been bugging him about the werewolves one floor below, and Stiles had only made it one week before he was thinking about grey-green eyes constantly again.</p><p>Laura tapped her fingers against the countertop and Stiles snapped back to reality.</p><p>“Uh, maybe.”</p><p>“But certainly not for another show.”</p><p>Stiles gave her a flat look and Laura barked a laugh again.</p><p>“I like you, kid. Derek’s not on a shift tonight, but he usually comes in pretty late to check on the place anyway. What do you say I keep your drinks refilled and you hang around for a little longer?”</p><p>Stiles hesitated for a moment. It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to be tonight and tomorrow was the weekend; Stiles had managed to get those off for long enough his dad didn’t even bother to try and book him anymore. Laura took his drink, refilling it, and Stiles sighed.</p><p>“So, you’re kind of a menace.”</p><p>Her grin was nothing but sharp and feral. So, like brother, like sister, Stiles supposed. He shifted a little on his stool, lifting the drink nervously to his lips. </p><p>He might take what he could get, honestly, if he really was meeting Derek again tonight. It had been a desperate bid when he’d pulled on his best black t-shirt and told Lydia he was going out. Ever the attentive roommate, she’d had questions, but Stiles still refused to say a thing.</p><p>Not until he… knew? Maybe. Whatever.</p><p>Stiles wasn’t some lovestruck school girl. He was just seeing where things went. And Derek was… well, Derek was Derek.</p><p>A smug asshole.</p><p>-</p><p>Derek wasn’t planning on showing up at his sister’s bar. No, he was planning on spending his night watching TV and not thinking about Stiles because <em> ‘shut up, Erica’ </em>he was not pining. He didn’t care if the idiot ever got back in contact; Derek totally hadn’t driven past the Sheriff’s station more than once that week, debating on whether or not he should just go in and make Stiles talk to him again.</p><p>Because that’s not what he wanted to do, right? Derek was better than that. And he didn’t care about little shit.</p><p>But at some point, he showed up at Laura’s bar anyway. She hadn’t let the whole ‘stripper accident’ go either, but Derek thought she was more tolerable than Erica. Erica who kept showing up at his apartment uninvited when Derek least expected it.</p><p>Except the moment he stepped in, he was struck by a whole new wave of scents. Something other than the usual alcohol and sweat that always assaulted his senses. No, this smelled of cinnamon and electricity. The same scent that had been haunting Derek for a week now.</p><p>He totally didn’t follow his nose, but then he saw a figure sitting at the bar counter and Derek nearly had a heart attack.</p><p>Before he could stop himself, he’d turned right back around and started toward the exit. But then a pair of hands caught his shoulders, dragging him away from it, and Derek barely had a chance to realize the hands belonged to <em> Laura. </em></p><p>Laura of all people. Derek’s heart leaped into his throat.</p><p>“Wait, no, Laura, I don’t want to—”</p><p>“Stiles!”</p><p>The boy whirled around with a glass in hand and his eyes went round, scent flaring. The light brown liquid in his glass sloshed over the side and Derek heard his heart skip an audible beat, feeling his own face grow hot.</p><p>“Der— <em> Derek! </em>Hey, hi, you’re here!”</p><p>“Stiles.”</p><p>Laura cackled and pushed Derek down into the stool at the boy’s side. He tried to shoot her a threatening look, he really did, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of Stiles’s face. Which was totally not pathetic.</p><p>The boy’s cheeks were a little red and he was grinning crookedly. Derek could tell he was either running a small buzz or much too tired; or maybe it was just the heat of this place. Suddenly, Derek felt warm too and he scrubbed a hand over his face while Laura made up some unintelligible excuse and wandered away.</p><p>“So,” Stiles said, resting a hand on his chin as he studied Derek’s face. “You’re here.”</p><p>“You’ve said that.”</p><p>“I mean, <em> I </em> did come by, big guy. And I could have totally left. You do realize I’ve been here for like two whole hours, right?”</p><p>Derek blinked. “You stayed?”</p><p>Stiles looked at him for a long moment and then his face turned bright red. His elbow slipped off the counter and he ducked his head, mumbling something unintelligible. Derek waited for a long moment, but when he didn’t get an answer, grabbed Stiles’s drink and finished the rest of it. It wouldn’t do anything, he knew, but he could at least pretend it would.</p><p>And then maybe any bad decisions he might make could be blamed on something else other than his sudden nerves.</p><p>Stiles had glanced up again and he was vibrating with nervous energy. Derek could get lost in the scents surrounding him, he thought. Even the slight smell of alcohol burning through Stiles’s bloodstream couldn’t smother that of cinnamon and electricity.</p><p>“So,” Stiles said again, chewing on his lower lip again. The boy waved a hand through the air, started to trail off once more and before Derek could stop himself, he was moving forward.</p><p>He was pretty sure he could call this a heat of the moment decision. Because that’s totally what it was, right? But then suddenly, he was kissing Stiles, Stiles was squeaking before kissing him back, and all Derek knew was Laura was only a few feet away and they had to get <em> out. </em></p><p>Derek caught Stiles by the neckline of his t-shirt and pulled him off the stool. Stiles whined and tried to catch his lips again but Derek was more focused on getting him away. Out, away, gone from other eyes. He thought he heard his sister’s laugh and the call “See you later, Derek!” but he was so totally never going to acknowledge that.</p><p>Then they were outside of the bar. Derek ducked down the nearest alleyway and pressed Stiles against the wall, carding a hand through his hair. Stiles was kissing him hard again, the taste of whiskey on his tongue as it chased into Derek’s mouth. Derek still had a handful of his t-shirt and he found himself tightening his grip, groaning around Stiles’s lips.</p><p>
  <em> “Stiles.” </em>
</p><p>The smell of the boy was intoxicating. Cinnamon and spices and electricity. The smell of his and right and <em> home. </em>Derek snarled against his lips and Stiles audibly shivered, the hand cupping the back of his neck tightening its grip.</p><p><em> His </em> and <em> right </em> and <em> home. </em>Derek felt blue shine behind his eyes and had to draw his hands back as his claws threatened to come out. Stiles made a sound of protest and held on tighter.</p><p>“Derek, no, <em> Derek </em>.”</p><p>“Wait, Stiles, I need to—”</p><p>“You need to use those damn fangs, Sourwolf. Right here, right now. And dammit, Derek, you need to...”</p><p>But Derek wasn’t even listening anymore. Stiles made an audible noise as Derek traced sharp fangs down his neck and maybe doing this in a literal alleyway wasn’t Derek’s best plan. But he couldn’t really think beyond the haze of ‘Stiles’ that had filled his mind. Stiles and his stupid scent, his stupid face, his stupid—</p><p>
  <em> “Mate.” </em>
</p><p>Stiles froze. And it took Derek a moment to realize the word that had left his mouth, he was so caught up in his own head. But when he did, he froze too. Stiles pulled back, looking at him with wide eyes, and Derek felt his face grow hot.</p><p>But Stiles’s face was pale. Derek felt his chest tighten as the boy blinked. “What?”</p><p>“I— it's not, I—”</p><p>“Derek, what did you just say?”</p><p>Derek opened and closed his mouth a few times, terror crashing over him. Then he realized he couldn’t be doing this; not with Stiles, not on their third meeting, not in a damn alleyway. This was Stiles. Fake stripper Stiles. Little shit Stiles. The very same one that Derek had promised he didn't want or need because this wasn't right, dammit.</p><p>
  <em>Dammit.</em>
</p><p>The first time they'd met, Stiles had been the one fleeing his apartment. The second time, Derek had been fleeing the coffee shop. And the third, he supposed he was the broken record here.</p><p>Because Derek didn’t look back as he pulled away and all but fled away from the boy that smelled like <em> his. </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay, y'all convinced me and I'm probably gonna write one or two more chapters for this! Cause I adore you all and I was so surprised to see people liked this fic!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was gonna be a one-shot because my brain went "accidental stripper Stiles" and two in the morning last night, but then it decided to actually have plot. So here we are! This author regrets many things. And I'd love to hear what you all thought!</p><p>Come hang with me on Tumblr?</p><p> <a href="https://when-she-writes-stuff.tumblr.com/">the dumpster</a></p><p>Or on my favorite Sterek discord!</p><p>  <a href="https://discord.gg/78RjqwY">not a dumpster</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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